


Through the Fire and Flames

by Dread



Category: Tattered Weave (Video Game), Tattered World (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, No narrator this time it is all my girl, The Dragon (Tattered Weave), eventually I will get to the part that is happier...maybe, takes me over a year to actually start writing this lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dread/pseuds/Dread
Summary: As the pressure mounts during the Illuminary Gala and the Rejuvenation Ritual looms before her, Princess Celariel must steel herself against those that would have her destroyed. But with her dreams filled with betrayal, the flames threatening to consume her, will she survive this threat? And even if she does, will she come out the same on the other side...
Relationships: Celariel/Dread (tattered world)





	1. Fear

Othidar passed through the halls, the din of the failed feast falling quieter behind him. Blast it- with everyone’s tensions so high, it’s no wonder things weren’t going smoothly, but the way everything in there blew out of proportion...He unclenched his fist as he turned the corner- it would do no good to find her if he was still worked up.

And there she was- the door, left partially ajar in her haste, swung open as Othidar entered the small chamber Celariel had fled to. She was curled up in the corner- so small, still- and he could hear the frustrated sobs still pouring from her.  


He crouched down next to her, resting one hand on her shoulder gently. Celariel froze for a brief moment, but did not move, choking down the last of her sobs.

“This humiliation, this threat...this curse,  
How could this have turned out any worse?  
Why? Why is it always me who must atone?  
Perhaps things would be better without me on the throne…”

“Celariel...I know how stressed you have been. But we are all working together to keep you safe, to keep the ball rolling as it were…” Othidar sat beside her, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

“Then why did this happen, if that be the case,  
The Feast was a failure, I can’t even save face.  
Is this what everyone wants? To witness my fall?  
To be the Princess who couldn’t even handle a ball?  
If these dreams come to fruition, and I am deposed...”

“That won’t happen.” Othidar pulled Celariel towards him, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Dizzy may have been full of good intentions that backfired, and some of your court may be...overeager for drama, but we will find whatever threat these dreams are revealing to you. And the Feast was not as much of a failure as you fear- I didn’t see much as I rushed to follow you, but your Illuminary Knights were already picking up the pieces as I left. Your Victor was practically leading the charge, organizing her kith for cleaning efforts. You are surrounded by people who care for you Celariel- we will not let whatever this threat is take hold.”

Celariel looked at him, so confident in his promise. But these dreams that had filled her for months- of pain and rage and fire. She was not sure how many more sleepless nights she could handle- there was only so much comfort Hope could give.

“And...what if everything I’ve done has been for naught,  
What if I am too weak to do what I ought,  
How can I protect the whole of the realm,  
When fear for my own life threatens to overwhelm?”

Othidar pulled her into a close embrace at this. “You are so much stronger than you realize, Celariel. You have faced challenges no ruler has ever had to before- because of you, we have made new allies, and found new ways to face the Withering. Fear is not a weakness, Celariel, it is a thing we all must face sometimes. But we don’t need to do it alone.” 

Celariel curled into his embrace, wishing she could truly believe his words.


	2. Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ritual of transformative proportions!

Celariel stepped forward- the end of the Gala, the time of the Rejuvenation Ritual was finally upon her. It was unsurprising to feel nervous- after all, she would briefly be the conduit for an amount of magic no elf of her time had even dreamed of being in control of. But this was more than mere nerves- dark circles fell under her eyes, and she clutched her hands together to hide the shaking that had begun this morning after another restless night’s sleep. Another night of fire and pain, of which she felt like she would be consumed, until she woke covered in sweat and tears. 

But tonight that would end...she felt sure of it. She just hoped it wouldn’t end with her own demise, consumed by the flames.

Othidar stood before her, and her Victor beside him, steadfast. Surely, they were able to find who had struck her dreams with such tragedy...And with the rest of her Illuminary Knights and the court surrounding the area, this was her last chance to discover who this sinister force that had consumed her dreams was.

“Well, Othidar? Did my knights discover,  
What threat my dreams wished to uncover?  
Who might it be who wishes for my demise,  
Who might it be who has hidden their intent with lies.  
I know that these dreams of flames and of fire,  
Are not mere delusions for my purpose to mire,  
I feel in my heart, as I did when I was young,  
That these visions hold a truth that has sprung.  
This fear...but surely, the traitor is found,  
And they can be taken from here, defeated and bound.  
Please...who might it be so my fears may be allayed,  
That I may focus on the ritual, and not be afraid.”

Othidar reached for one of Celariel’s hands, clasping it in his own and rubbing it soothingly. “Celariel...Princess Celariel. Your Knights have searched and investigated throughout the entire Illuminary Gala, but have not been able to find enough evidence to accuse anyone of treason. I do not doubt your proclivity for Dream Magic, not after Faraienne, and I do not doubt this threat you see, but...as much as we tried to discover who your dream seemed to indicate, we could not find any plans to snatch the throne.”

Celariel seemed taken aback- after all this time no one had been able to discover anything?  
“But the dreams, when they manifested those three,  
The elf, and the general, and the sorrowful tree.  
Why would they appear if not a hint to a plot?  
Just look and see how much damage they’ve wrought!”

Dread stepped forward, taking Celariel’s free hand in her own.  
“You are right, Celariel, what these three have done,  
The chaos and mischief they’ve sowed and they’ve spun.  
But it’s been for reasons of overzealous protection,  
Grief not yet healed, or a simple deflection  
From one’s own insecurities, but none showed enough alone,  
To have strong enough reason to want the throne.”

Dread paused for a moment, eyeing the three suspects- she rested a particularly strong glare on the elf that had been haunting her love’s dreams, but turned back to Celariel hopefully before he noticed. 

“If accusations were made, and they ended up wrong,  
Maybe that’s what the Dreams were warning of all along.  
I’ve searched high and low, believe me, I’ve tried,  
But I cannot find evidence of planned regicide.  
But know this, my love, I am here to protect,  
My Kith are stationed around to detect,  
Any hint of betrayal, and it’s not me alone,  
Your Knights are all here to protect you and the throne.”

Dread smiled so boldly, but Celariel could tell her eyes were full of worry- they focused too long on Celariel’s own redshot eyes and dark circles. And Celariel knew she could not hide the shaking of her hand in Dread’s strong grip.

“As you say,” Celariel began, “I should not be rash,  
If...if an accusation could end in a deadly backlash,  
But what if you’re wrong? What if...I fail,  
This ritual and all that it may entail,  
If I’m slain in the midst, or can’t handle the magic,  
What if…

“We won’t let that happen Celariel.” Othidar interrupted, and squeezed her hand, while Dread squeezed the other. “You are so strong- I know you can do this. And we are all here beside you, supporting you. Trust us- you are not alone.”

Trust, she thought. If that was all she could do- the fires still licked in her mind, but she squeezed both her companions hands and nodded before turning to step forward in front of the crowd. She put on a smile, a false mask she had perfected as much as her rhymes over the years, and addressed those before her.

“Greetings, it is time, the finale at hand,  
The time for the Ritual to rejuvenate our land,  
At the stroke of the final hour,  
At the height of the magic’s power!  
I will act as a conduit, with these hands I will guide,  
Magic that before was left untried.  
To bring growth, strength, and prosperity too,  
Now it is time, time to renew.”

She nodded at Lenta as she stepped forward, the slightest of smiles peeking through- Lenta would be watching everything involved in the ritual, and with Othidar and Dread and the rest of the friends...maybe there was a sliver of hope left in her heart. She just needed to cast the dreams aside and focus on the magic pulsating beneath her, bury the fear that leaving herself vulnerable in the throws of the magic would end in a similar tragedy as her grandmother so many years before.

The leylines that were so carefully placed and monitored were brimming with magic, and Celariel opened herself up to it. The healing magic came first- the warmth so familiar, the magic she was the most comfortable with. She felt embraced by it, but it was only the start.

Water washed over her, growth and earth enveloped, ice nipped at the edge of her senses. She laughed as sparks ran down her arms, shock and light combining in a glow of power and warmth, only dissipating as the darkness of shadow and the power of charm and illusion took their own hold. Even poison, a branch of magic she had acted antagonist to more than once, pulsed through her veins as a friend, a reminder that in the right hands it could act as a cure as much as a curse There was so much power here, coursing through her, more power than she could have ever dreamed.

And there was fire.

Flames, flames that could bring destruction as much as rebirth, more than any other magic this was the traditional symbol of power. And she could feel it, as the warmth surrounded her, that raw energy licking away at the edges of her senses. 

Everything surrounding her was tuned out, she was so enveloped in the magic that had entered her. But she knew what was next- she was a conduit, nothing more, a path to release these magics so they could renew her home, no longer be trapped far below where even the oldest of the Dryad’s roots could not follow.

And yet…

As the magic continued to flow inside her, anxious thoughts wormed their way to the surface. As much as this magic would renew the land, it would not protect it- the magic would run wild, doing as it is wont to do, with no one to control. And if the Forest were to face a deadly threat, were the Withering to grow in power or a betrayal from the inside destroy their protection her family had held together for so long, this magic would be gone, useless. No one would be able to pull from this magic like she was now for generations.

No one could control it like her.

And why shouldn’t she keep it? She was their Princess, their Leader- she had been tasked before she was ready to hold her home together, to prevent it from succumbing to the Withering that still yet hovered over them. With this power, there would be no need to fear- no threat could stand before her magical might.

Wreathed in flame, the power of Fire springing forth past the other elements, she started to transform, the magic stripping her of her weak visage for a form more fitting of her power. Her gown so large it swamped her figure shredded away, replaced by sharp-edged leggings and jacket. Sharp claws covered her hands, red and curved and deadly. Her hair, no longer pinned in precise buns, flowed behind her, as wings sprung from her back and head. And a mask fell over her face, horned and glaring through the embers.

She was no mere Princess- she was a Dragon, and this magic was Her’s.

\-----

”Your Highness!” The call of her name sounded distant, and she looked down on the crowd before her, hovering above on her newly formed wings. But as she looked, the faces of her subjects were not filled with the awe and wonder she expected, but fear. And the call came again, this time louder, this time filled with a mix of titles and voices melding together.

“Princess!” “Highness!” “Celariel!”

“What?” Celariel cried, frown clear beneath the mask that now donned her face. “Why do you cry?  
Look how powerful I have become, you cannot deny,  
I can protect you all now, there is no need to fear,  
Now bask in the draconic glory, revere!”

“Your Highness” Lenta stammered, the closest of anyone as they had been keeping a close eye on the leylines as the magic flowed into their ruler. “This...this isn’t right! The magic is overtaking you, consuming you! You must release, no one person can control this amount of power, and it is still pouring into you. By the Wizards Three, this was not how this was supposed to go!”

“Thou art mistaken, my dear Advisor” Celariel descended, inches from Lenta’s face, a bite to her voice that was not there before.  
“Thou wouldst see if thou were wiser,  
For the very first time, I am in control,  
The power is mine, I am finally whole,  
No more settling squabbles of ungrateful kin  
No more fear, no more weakness therein,  
I am power incarnate, let this new chapter begin!”

Celariel shook her head slightly- if this was a new era, if she was truly transformed, it was time to cast aside the last of the barriers she had used for so long.

“My faithful subjects, worry not! Your Princess, your benevolent rule, is now more powerful than any ruler whom hadst cometh before! No threat needst ever strike fear into thine hearts, for I have the power to protect everyone. I have been transformed! No longer shall I be your cowering Princess- I am the almighty Dragon! I have finally come into my own- now follow me, my loyal subjects, into a new era!”

“Celariel, listen to yourself!” Othidar had pushed himself forward, Dread not far behind, though she did not speak up. “Lenta is right- this power is too much for one person, even one as gifted as you.”

Celariel chuckled at this, high and keening and cruel. “Thou hadst no idea of my power- what wouldst thou have me do? Once again be stripped and left a helpless child? One whom cannot even make it through one miserable feast before shattering to pieces?”

“You have never been helpless” Dread said, but it was quiet and hidden behind tears as she watched the one she loved so consumed with rage and hurt, and she wasn’t sure if she was even heard.

“Othidar, dost thou not see? The flames we feared so much from my dreams were merely a foretelling of the radiant power I wouldst now embrace! Embrace it now beside me!”

Othidar merely shook his head in dismay, grief clear across his face that his words had done nothing.

“Fine” Celariel exclaimed coldly. “If thou willst not stand beside me, then thou art against me. And that goes for everyone” she called, scanning over the crowd. “I shall call upon my friends, my companions, my Kith, I call to thee, seize those who oppose me!”

At these words, the Kith of the Forest turned on their former allies, and the area broke into chaos. Some, with wits about them, reacted quickly- The Wolf grabbed Othidar by the collar as he still reached for Celariel and dragged him to safety. Dizzy and Skyler grabbed Lenta, who was so engrossed in finding a way to halt the flow of magic they barely noticed their own ally turning on them. The Hero, seeing his newfound friends under attack, jumped into the fray, bravely clearing the path for many to retreat deeper into the Forest. However, in defending The Dollmaker, he finally did succumb to the sheer number of Kith, and the pair was dragged towards the dungeons in defeat. 

The Kith had seemed to, for the most part, focus on the leaders- Kyprian was currently being wrangled by a hoard of cinis, and a flock of licorne had Nicholas and Estella pinned. The mers, as well, restricted to the water, were rounded up with ease. 

The three figures that had dominated Celariel’s dreams, other than the flames, had a whole contingent of talion to face. Their escape seemed unlikely, but as Celariel dismissed the talion to take the group down below with the others, they attempted one final plea.

“Your Highness, CEASE!” General Thelvoskye squawked. “I HAVE ONLY EVER BEEN LOYAL TO THE FOREST- TO PROTECT IT FROM OUTSIDE AND IN! No, you Kith, please, get OFF!! This ritual...this magic is not an eternal well- even the magic of the Heart is being affected! Look to the Dryads- some are barely able to stand!”

“Princess...this ritual was foolish...surely you can see it now...as my leaves wither...” Mara spoke softly, their words coming out as no more than a breeze, strained. “Surely you can see...the sickness this has wrought...on my brethren…my dear Losain...I may see you yet...”

“Celariel!” Dynrial pleaded. “Please...I didn’t mean for this to happen, for any of this to happen. I might have whispered a word or two here and there, convinced Alban to charm some clothing and Mara to tweak the charms to cause a little drama and spectacle. But I never meant for things to go this far...please, Celly, you’ve got to believe me!”

“SILENCE” Celariel roared, the talion guard pausing around their prey as she glided forward to the three. “Thine own work has led to thy own doom. General, thou speakest of loyalty, and yet ye squabble and quack at every offset of tradition, every new path that has opened up for us. Loyal? Nay, thou art but an old bird far past his prime, stuck in the past. I shall bring the future!”

“And Mara…” Celariel glared at the wilting Dryad. “Thou art the one who is foolish- I am only procuring what should rightfully be mine. Power that only one such as I can wield, power that can protect us all. But do not fear for thy brethren- those who pledge their loyalty shall find their roots brimming.”

“Dynrial,” Celariel finished, scowling. “Dost thou think weak words and childhood nicknames wouldst sway my heart? Thou hadst never grown from the time you were small- still delighting in tricks and chaos. And see now what this has brought you! No one has come to save you- why shouldst they? Thou wouldst not in their shoes. Thou wouldst take it for a laugh and be about your merry day. To the dungeons with these three! I tire of their faces.”

Dread, for her part during the chaos, had frozen. She watched as her own Kith were pulled from her- she could feel in her heart the alliances she had made, ripped and torn from her. And there was something else- another pull but she could not place it. But it held her- while she did not prevent anyone from fleeing, and while her Kith who still held alliance with her begged her to turn and follow, she could not. Every inch of her felt like it needed to be here, had to be here...how could she leave when Celariel was in so much pain.

And so, when Celariel turned from directing the Kith and surveyed the wake of the ritual, a wicked grin spreading on her face, Dread remained.

“My Victor!” Celariel cooed, one clawed hand resting on the small of Dread’s back as she directed her forward, which Dread obliged. “I knew thou wouldst stay. But thy face still spells fear- do not worry. My minions are on the hunt- I will smoke them out, my disloyal subjects, and they will be brought into the fold. Soon, my Victor, I shall control the very essence of the Heart, and none shall threaten us ever again!”

Dread followed, not knowing what words she could use, what feelings would reach through to Celariel when she was so overcome with power. This would consume her, surely...and yet, Dread could not help the smallest sense of pride, of allegiance. If anyone could find a way to control this power, it was her princess.

And so Dread obeyed.


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The transformation is complete, but what exactly does this new era The Dragon is ushering in entail?

Dread’s footsteps rang down the near-empty halls- everyone who could escape seemed to have. Only terrified servants, whispering under hushed breaths as they scurried too and fro from the throne room, passed by her, rushing to another task rather than linger for too long. And yet, linger is exactly what Dread did. 

She knew, knew this wasn’t right. The fear that permeated, should one stray comment push their tyrannical ruler from calm into fury. Should one snap set the spark to destroy what was already fading around her, as the magic seeped from the Forest into the Princess’ waiting claws. Dread had sent many of her own Kith away- at least, the ones that hadn’t been swept up in Celarial’s The Dragon’s pull, though some refused to leave her side. And yet, every time the thought crossed Dread’s mind, of finding those who fled, coming up with a plan to reach through to Celariel together, to remind her she is not alone....her mind simply went blank, and she froze. All Dread felt was this pull, a pull to stay, a pull to follow...a pull to obey...

In her wanderings, Dread found herself outside the tall, gilded doors so many of the court were fleeing. Each verdant flourish was so elegantly carved, though the edges were now singed, a product of the Princess’ magically-enhanced temper. If only Dread could reach through to her. But for now, she would just have to see what exactly The Dragon had in store for her. With a push, she cast the doors forward. 

~~Celarial~~ The Dragon stood before her throne, claws smoldering. Knelt before her was an Avoreal Dread did not recognize. His wings were shredded and singed, the stench of burnt feathers filling the large area. Kith lined the room, stoic guardians unflinching at the sight before them. 

“My Princess, I…” Dread struggled, eyes frozen on the Avoreal, “is this needed, is this just? What did he do to sow such distrust?”

The Dragon laughed at this. “‘Tis noble of thee to show such concern, but our _friend_ would not be in this state if he had been forthcoming. Thou wouldst think, as their ruler, it would be easy, but alas- it seems I must work to discover their undermining schemes.”

Dread didn’t dare argue- how could she? But at least with her here The Dragon was distracted from her slightly-charred subject. 

“I am here, my love, how can I aid, face the things that have made you so very afraid. This...hoarding of power, to hide your own fear, you know we can face anything together, my dear.”

“My Victor, ‘tis no more need for childish rhymes, thou may speakest freely. No more cadence to hide behind in fear of mockery.” The Dragon paused at her own accidental rhyme, but ignored it, flashing a toothy grin beneath her mask.

“And yet….you hide more than ever, mask your pain….”

The Dragon frowned slightly, but stood, stepping close to Dread with mask angled down.“So many abandoned me…”, she whispered, stroking one of Dread’s arms before meeting her eyes. “But not thee….thou art so _loyal_ ” She drew the last word out like viscous honey- thick and cloying, as she reached up and caressed Dread’s cheek. 

Dread couldn’t help it- she leaned into the caress, every inch of her being vibrating to be here, with her Princess. To help, to aid….to obey. She let out a shuddering sigh and closed her eyes, but the moment was cut by a low whimper from the wounded Avoreal still before them. “Oh, thou art still here,” the Dragon sneered, raking her claws against Dread’s face as she turned towards the wounded bird. Red welts instantly formed, a trickle of blood raining down at the deepest cut on Dread’s cheek. Dread raised one hand, the sharp pain snapping her out of her brief reverie.

“Throw him in with the rest of the prisoners.” The Dragon waved one clawed hand dismissively, before turning back towards her throne. 

“I can take care of him” Dread stated, barely covering up a crack in her voice. “If that will please you…” she added quickly.

“Oh my _good_ Victor, ever aiming to please.” The Dragon brushed away one stray hair that had fallen across Dread’s face with a single claw. She seemed oblivious to the marks that now marred Dread’s skin. “Dispose of this bothersome guest in the dungeons, and then return to me. I wish to spend the time with my Victor that _duty_ denied us for so long.”

“As you wish,” and Dread bowed, before grabbing the Avoreal by the collar and half dragging him out of the throne room. The Dragon’s wicked grin burned into Dread’s thoughts, harsh against features that had been so warm just a few days prior.

\-----

Dread ignored the cries of the Avoreal as she continued to drag him at a quick pace through the halls, with what she hoped was a determined and confident stride, even though she felt far from it. But every corner, every hall as she winded down in the general direction of the dungeons to avoid suspicion, housed another of The Dragon’s minions- a hoard of tiny cinis, just newly allied now piled together and watching, a pyre of phowl lighting up the path in the absence of torches. She even thought she recognized Burnie in the bunch, eyes usually so playful now empty and hollow.

“Left, Dread.” A quiet voice cheeped at her ear. Dread had nearly forgotten Benitonite, the tiny, blackbird gemwing that had accompanied her since that fateful night of the ritual. Thankfully, her companion was right- the left seemed empty, and Dread ducked down the path.

The Avoreal gasped at the quick change of direction, and Dread’s hackles raised. She swiftly covered his mouth to stifle any additional noise before crouching, glancing around the next turn to see if the path was clear. 

Shit.

It seemed one of her own former allies, the talion Kyanite, was stationed here. And this was the best path out. 

And her Avoreal friend started protesting.

“Hey!” Dread stated in a harsh whisper, “If you wish to not rot down in the dungeons with your General, then I need you to keep it down.”

“Mmwhart?” A muffled question escaped the Avoreal, eyes filled with confusion.

Right. Dread removed her hand covering his beak. “I am trying to get you out. But alerting the Kith around here might make that a tad difficult.”

“How was I supposed to know that was what you were doing? You seemed...very close with her.”

Dread paused. Now that she considered, nothing she had done looked like anything more than following orders so far...and they still could be, really, if she turned around right now. But if instead she got this Avoreal out, it would be betrayal in every sense of the word. Betrayal against the one that completed her heart, that held sway over her very soul, the one she longed and yearned for and wished she could turn around and fall into her embrace, claws and all.

But in the end, that would help no one, least of all Her. And besides, this was the right thing to do.

“She is...I am doing this _because_ I love her. This...rage, this fire, is consuming her- adding to her prison count will only increase the kindling she can use as an outlet. And I’m assuming you would rather not be burned again, sir...?”

The Avoreal nodded enthusiastically at this. “Would like to avoid that again, very much so, thank you. And it’s Corporal Karuk.”

“Good.” Dread peeked around the corner, but Kyanite was still standing guard. But he was the only one...maybe there was a chance with him. 

“Come with me.” She said quietly, pulling the Avoreal up while Benitonite flittered briefly on her shoulder, before rounding the corner into full view of her former companion. 

“Kyanite! How are you feeling, buddy?” Dread said, voice high in greeting. “I just thought I’d take in a bit of fresh air…”

The talion stood and stared, not attacking but clearly blocking her path. She could feel Karuk shivering at her side, but that wouldn’t do any good. She needed to remind Kyanite…

“I miss you, you know, Ky. I….I know you are still here, it just....it’s not the same. I do have something for you though!” Very slowly, Dread pulled one of her own blades from behind her back. Kyanite tensed, ears back and ready to pounce, but Dread did not ready her own stance. Instead, she held the sword along the flat edge of the blade, as if to offer it to the beast before her. 

“I remember how much you loved swords...almost as much as me.” She gave a short laugh, though Kyanite stayed tense before her, a low growl emanating from his throat. “You coveted the first swords we found, those Captain’s blades from the reef- saying you were going to be your own brave Captain, rescuing those lost at sea and giving back treasure stolen. I’m not sure you fully understood some of the pirate stories I told you…”

Kyanite did not move, but his ears twitched forward. Dread took this as a sign, and took a step closer.

“I just thought maybe you would want one that was just your own, now I’ve been able to forge swords myself. But I never would have been able to do that without allies like you, Ky. You are so brave, and kind, maybe a tad too enthusiastic at times, and you and Galena together…”

Kyanite suddenly raised a clawed talon, but did not strike. With more delicacy than one might expect for his size, he closed his grasp around the hilt of the sword, and turned away without a word.

But the path was now open for their escape.

“Thank you, Ky.” she whispered, before turning down the rest of the hall and into the open canopy.

\-----

Once outside, it was easy enough to flit between treetops and through the dappled undergrowth, even in Karuk’s battered state. And with Benitonite keeping an eye from above, they managed to avoid detection, and reached the edge of The Dragon’s full control.

“Ok...I think this is where we must separate.”

“Wait, what?” Karuk chirped. “You’re...coming with me, aren’t you? You cannot be thinking of staying here!”

“I....can’t leave. I’m sorry...I need to try…Benitonite will help you get to the Underground, where the others who have fled have gathered. You should be safe there.”

Karuk frowned, but didn’t argue further- it was clear in Dread’s eyes that no amount of convincing would pull her away. Benitonite flit from her shoulder to Dread’s hands, which she raised to bring them both to eye level.

“I know you must do this Dread but….try to stay safe…”

“I will” Dread stated, hiding the quaver in her voice as best she could. She leaned forward to bring her and Benitonite’s foreheads together, before letting her take flight and lead her own charge on his way. Dread, for her part, turned back- time to enter the flames once more.


	4. Plea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One final plea for a Princess- will Dread reach through to her?

The Dragon turned as the two cinis entered the throne room, a bedraggled Dread between them. She smirked as Dread was tossed to the ground, one of her cinis captors with his claw on her back to keep her kneeling. Keeping her in her proper place.

“Oh, my dear, dear Victor,” The Dragon stood, flanked by a cinis and licorne all too familiar to Dread. “Galena here was telling me the queerest thing- oh, he was thine own once, was he not? This must be so painful….” The Dragon stepped closer, tilting Dread’s head up with a single curved claw. “He claims he spotted you with a little singed bird near the edge of the Forest. And, when I went to check on my prisoners, make sure they were well accommodated for, what did I find, hmmmm?”

“Celariel….”

“Nothing, Dread!” The Dragon pulled her hand back and struck Dread as she spoke. “Thou swiped my prey from my grasp. After I raised you up from the peons, dost thee cast thy title aside, Victor? And for what- some worthless fowl!”

“Does it free you? To trample on those underneath?” Dread couldn’t help as the words tumbled out of her mouth- as much as everything in her yearned to be by her Princess’ side…it couldn’t be like this. The Dragon paused, clearly expecting Dread to fall into line. If there ever was a chance, a possibility of reaching through to her before Celariel fell too far into darkness, it was now. 

Dread glanced at her captors, at her former allies still flanking Celariel, their eyes darkened and empty.

“You once spoke of Kith as too hard to choose,  
not wishing to show favoritism so one might lose,  
yet now you twist the bonds that were so strong,  
but do you think this forced thread will last for long?”

“Do not speak as if thou know my power!” 

But Dread continued, ignoring the Dragon’s outburst.

“You once granted Valon the Royal Rose,  
yet now her alliance you depose,  
You turn them away, your friends, your kin,  
in favor of power and the rage within,  
I know you are hurting, I know this is not,  
some simple grievance that can just be forgot,  
But alone, in your tower, reigning from above,  
isn’t it lonely up there my love?”

The Dragon grabbed Dread by the collar, tearing her from her captors and slamming her against the wall. The smell of brimstone reached Dread’s nostrils as she continued to dig what she was sure her own grave. But she had to hope something would reach through, even if she was burned in the process.

“Do you now deny all the friends you have made?  
Cast aside for some power because you are afraid?  
You came to the Reef and talked of alliances strong,  
remnants working together, though they’ve been apart for so long,  
Yet now from your own home, you wish to pull apart,  
all those that once were so close to your heart.  
They care for you still, though you push them away,  
and yet there is still hope they can reach you someday…”

“Someday?” The Dragon roared, throwing Dread to the ground. “Dost thou still not comprehend? Thou wish to throw me back in the chains I finally escaped!”

“You say you cast those aside, but there are chains anew,  
Chains of pain and of rage, of isolation your brew,  
Your love you showed for your home, now you burn it away?  
Those chains were not right, but now there is only dismay.  
Surely there must be another way?”

“Cease with this juvenile verse. I welcomed thee into my new kingdom, and thou repay me with lectures and betrayal. Thou are no better than the rest of my wretched court.” It felt, to Dread, like the Dragon was wreathed in invisible flame, her rage charging the air around her. And yet, there was the slightest hesitation, the tiniest waver in the way her voice carried as she loomed over Dread. And Dread had one last card she could play, for better or worse.

“Is our alliance too weak to survive this new dawn?  
Do you remember? or are you now too far gone?”

At the last, Dread pulled from her pack a small, delicately-wrapped package. As she unfolded, a tiny lavender saucer filled with sweet berry pudding to the brim was revealed, perfectly preserved with time magic. Dread tenderly held it in both hands, as if precious, and waited, hoping.

There was silence, for a moment, as both Dread and the Dragon seemed frozen with held breaths. The edge of the Dragon’s vision started to cloud- That pudding brought back so many memories. Frustration, powerlessness, fear...but also laughter and joy, relief…

No...the Dragon cast those foolish feelings aside, and knocked the pudding cradled in Dread’s hands to the floor, spewing the sweet dessert across the marble tile.

“How dare! Thou bringest this….poisonous confection, a symbol thou say of thy own affection? And yet thou dost forget, the position this pudding for me dost set? Thou speakest of love, yet tear down what I now do strive, now that with this power I finally feel alive? I...I don’t need this, this mockery of me…

I defy this pitiful plea. I need it not…

To the dungeons with her.”

At the last syllable, Dread felt her heart shatter, strewn across the throne room floor like the confection beside her. She barely acknowledged as the Kith around her pulled her away, her eyes still focused on the Dragon, who had turned away in so much disgust. 

She had wanted to stop the pain, but had only brought more.


End file.
